


Soft Notes

by Konigsberg



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Established Relationship, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Post-Canon, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23948770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konigsberg/pseuds/Konigsberg
Summary: It started during the war when she had Sylvain across her desk in her old room. She rode him—made him whine for her. He clutched at her thighs, nails raising pink lines as his fingers curled with each roll of her hips. Biting back a smile, she reached between his trembling thighs to stroke his balls and down further, teasing his perineum until his jaw was slack and eyes unseeing.It evolved quickly from there.In which Sylvain enjoys being filled, and Dorothea is more than happy to lend a hand.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 48





	Soft Notes

**Author's Note:**

> This was in response to a request on the [FE3H Kinkmeme](url): "Sylvain getting fisted. I don't care who does it, just someone shove a fist up his ass."
> 
> Someone responded before I finished so I hope they don't mind I filled as well.

Dorothea has been training him for a while now. It started during the war when she had Sylvain across her desk in her old room. She rode him—made him whine for her. He clutched at her thighs, nails raising pink lines as his fingers curled with each roll of her hips. Biting back a smile, she reached between his trembling thighs to stroke his balls and down further, teasing his perineum until his jaw was slack and eyes unseeing.

It evolved quickly from there: slick fingers teasing his rim as Sylvain choked on breathy noises, fists caught in his sheets; one finger, slow and easy, exploring his heat; two glancing over his prostate while he groaned and rut into the loose grip of her hand; and then three while he begged for more, spilling empty, sugary words.

Sylvain is terribly handsome, but he’s prettiest when he’s on his knees for her, hands scrabbling for purchase. He whines and shudders and begs so sweetly when she goes slow, teasing with light brushes of her fingertips. When she thrusts her fingers hard and fast, he sobs for her, groaning around her name broken across his lips. When Dorothea croons for him, praising him, his voice climbs and cracks. And when it’s over, the trembles dying down, Sylvain fumbles his way between her thighs to return the favor.

She takes her time with him, learning his body and every reaction. He likes to be teased and denied. She lets him come dry many nights, leaving his cock hard for her to ride; when he does reach his peak, there’s always his wicked mouth to find pleasure in. Praise makes him gasp and writhe just the same as a touch. And the more fingers the better.

She has him spread for her now, tight around four of her fingers. Their bedroom is lit by the fireplace, the light playing across Sylvain’s back as he arches, taking her deeper. Each slide of her fingers fucks a breathless noise from his lips; he twists his head, cheek pressed to a pillow, as if to ensure she can hear him where others would try to stifle such wet and wanting gasps.

A lazy smile curls her lips. With her free hand, she pets the back of one shaking thigh. “If I didn’t know it would go to your head,” she teases, “I’d say you look quite handsome like this.”

Choking out a laugh, Sylvain counters, “Ah, but I already know—”

She curls her fingers and grins at his little wail. He jerks beneath her ministrations, searching for more pleasure still.

“Such a greedy thing.”

“Ye-ah,” he croaks, panting against his forearm. His eyes are twisted shut and one hand fists in his own hair, grip tightening with each keen he releases. It makes for a pretty sight. “I’m, ah, I’m ready for more—Fuck, please!”

Her brow arches. “More?”

“Yes, yes—Saints!” His teeth dig into his bottom lip only for his jaw to slacken with another whining cry when Dorothea twists her fingers just so. His muscles tighten around her and she watches him fight the urge to stuff a knuckle between his teeth. “More, more, _more_ —”

Shivering with her desire, Dorothea snatches up the vial of slick once more. She stills her hand but doesn’t remove her fingers from Sylvain, but earns a complaining whimper, nonetheless. Hushing him, she spills more slick into her palm and over his entrance before messily closing the bottle once more. He groans, rolling his hips, always searching. With her newly freed hand, she gives his ass a little smack; it’s hardly a deterrent judging by his whine.

“ _Please_ …”

“You have to be patient,” she chastises, using her free hand to spread the slick over her thumb and across her palm. She twists her fingers, smirking at his groan, and smears the remaining slick over her knuckles. “This is going to be quite the step up.” She pauses. “You know—”

“Your hand—yes, yes, I know,” he huffs, impatient to the end.

She rolls her eyes and gives him another spank for good measure. “Are you ready, then?”

“Oh yeah. Been ready,” he says. He’s clearly aiming for a joking tone, but his voice is too strained by his lust.

“Oh, Sylvain, what am I going to do with you?” She ducks her head to kiss the small of his back, smirking at his shivers. “Let me know if you need me to stop, darling.”

“Uh-huh…” He squirms.

“Impatient,” she tuts and pets his thigh once more. “I’ll start now.”

Dorothea teases her thumb over his rim, bottom lip caught between her teeth. He moans for her and burrows his face against his arm. He’s beautifully responsive, especially like this. In part, it’s thanks to how familiar Dorothea is with his body, easily finding his vulnerabilities and taking advantage of them. Still, Sylvain is delightfully sensitive all on his own, hissing when his nipples brush against the sheets.

Applying pressure with her thumb has him shuddering before melting, body limp for her. She hums, withdrawing just enough to add her thumb alongside her other fingers. She keeps her movements slow, taking care not to bring him any discomfort.

“S’good,” Sylvain slurs, whining softly against his arm. His hand cards through his hair before renewing its grasp, fingers wound tight in the curls forming at the nape of his neck where the skin is sweat-damp and flushed. “Thea, Thea… So good…”

The steady heat building low in her belly spikes, her cunt throbbing. She peppers kisses over one thigh and squeezes the other.

Sylvain is tighter than she expected, considering how often they do this. As it is, Dorothea’s hands are notably slender, though; she knows he can take it, and more importantly, that he’ll enjoy it. She fucks her fingers in and out once more, paying close attention to the hitch of his breath. She withdraws further than she did at first, and this time her thumb joins her fingers with more ease.

When her knuckles reach his rim, Sylvain clenches and sobs. His leg kicks out at her side, trembling. “ _Thea_ ,” he whines, body quaking beneath her. “So much—it’s so much.”

“I know, sweetheart.” She strokes up his thigh and across the small of his back. “Do you need a moment?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just… just a minute.”

Crooning to him quietly, she dips her head to kiss the base of his spine. Her hand finds his flank, petting lightly. He’s beautiful like this, all of his walls crumbling. Truly, he’s hers in these moments, pure and raw in ways no one else has seen him.

With a roll of his hips, Sylvain tells her he’s ready between shaky breaths. She kisses his back once more, lips lingering. She fucks her hand into him with slow, small movements, listening to each gasp and groan. Gripping his hip, she steadies his jerky, weak thrusts in an attempt to keep him from hurting himself. With each push and pull she enters him a little further, rotating her wrist to test the waters. A high moan is her answer.

“I’m not made of glass,” he complains, voice deeper and rawer than she recalls ever hearing it before. “I can take it.”

“You _will_ ,” she concedes, “but in a moment.”

She fully intends to do this right.

He soon slips back under, returning to that soft, quiet state he sometimes falls into when the pleasure is so intense. He still gasps for her and releases throaty, shuddering cries, but beyond halting exhales of her name, he can’t seem to find any words. Smiling softly, she strokes her palm down his spine. She loves when he gets like this.

Little by little she works her hand inside him, reaching past her knuckles and finally the thickest part of her hand. Like that, her hand is inside him—fully inside him. His moan falters, slipping into a pitiful whimper. She can’t help but stare, watching his body pulse around her wrist.

“Sylvain, darling—”

“’s good,” he babbles. “So good, so good. I’m-I’m—” He whines, shaking all over and squirming against the sheets. He’s fever hot around her. “Gonna come,” he keens. “Thea, I’m gonna come.”

Her breath catches. “That’s alright, sweetheart. You can come whenever you need. It’s alright.”

He shifts as if he wants to roll his hips but hesitates. Sylvain, overeager and perpetually chasing after pleasure, is for once pinned by the sensation. It’s thrilling.

With a grin, Dorothea tests the tight clutch of his body, just barely withdrawing her hand before rocking back into him. He jolts and a moan spills from him, half-bitten off and unsteady. His back arches. He’s unfairly beautiful.

“How does it feel?”

“Gonna come—so good, I can’t-can’t—” He warbles, tears coloring his words. “ _Thea_!”

Positioning herself so she can admire the side of his face over his shoulder, flushed with his lust, Dorothea withdraws her hand, allowing her fingers to find his prostate. The cry that forces its way from Sylvain’s lips is perfectly broken. He clenches around her, body going taut. He groans through clenched teeth as he comes.

She continues to stroke that spot, murmuring, “You’re just lovely like this, aren’t you? Just perfect. So desperate and all for me, hm?”

Another pitiful cry that could be her name, and he bites the flesh of his arm. As his body relaxes once more, she cautiously pulls out. His shivers remain.

“You did so well,” she praises quietly, kissing his shoulders as she settles against his side.

He’s quick to wrap himself around her, arm around her waist and leg easing between her own. He’s still shaking, if only slightly. When she strokes his hair, he eagerly presses into his touch.

“Give me a minute and I’ll eat you out,” he offers blearily and kisses her wrist. “Or finger you. Or something.”

Chuckling, she says, “As nice as that sounds, darling, I suspect you’re going to pass out rather quickly.”

Sylvain pinches her thigh, pouting, but doesn’t bother denying it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find my social media through [Carrd](https://konigsberg.carrd.co/).


End file.
